


Poppet

by Brighid



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brighid/pseuds/Brighid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's always more, hot and sweet and lovely."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poppet

**Author's Note:**

> This is Drusilla. You have been warned. For Dolomir K.

Poppet

The room Aaron woke up in was thick and dark and close; it smelled like his grandmother's basement, like wet and things gone bad and peppermint, all at once, and it made him feel sick, even sicker than he already did. For a long time he just lay on the cracked floor, drooling around the cloth shoved in his mouth, but eventually he noticed that there was music playing softly in the corner. He turned his head towards it. "Are you awake, my dolly?" and a swish of dark skirts came into his line of sight; suddenly he was pulled up, into the air, hanging by the back of his pants, held tight by a skinny lady with scary eyes.

"Don't be shy, my poppet. Don't be shy. Miss Alice and Miss Angeline are all gone, but I've got other dollies for you, you won't be lonely, not a bit," she said seriously, her voice half-singing. "Would you like some tea? We're having a lovely party in the corner, the three of us, and there's room for one more." She giggled. "Miss Amelia has spilt her cup all over her dress, she's very bad, but that doesn't matter, there's always more, hot and sweet and lovely. Now, no screaming, dearie, no screaming, or you can't have any jam!" She shook her finger at him, like his grandmother used to do, and then set him down on the floor, took the cloth from his mouth. 

"Who are you? Where's my mom?" Aaron tried to ask, but his mouth was thick and dry and his voice was small and gone and his head was spinning, so he just followed the skinny lady into the corner where the music was. There was a table there with a little teapot and a bunch of cups with flowers. None of them matched.

There were four chairs. One held a stiff doll in an old dress, with blonde hair in braids, like the one in his mother's closet. The other had a little girl, sleeping, with jam all down her front. The lady held out a chair for him, and he sat down, and took the little flower cup she handed him, but it was empty.

"Why's she asleep?" Aaron asked, though his voice didn't quite sound right; it was high and funny and fuzzy in his ears. 

The skinny lady petted his head. "She's been naughty, very naughty, spilt her cup all over. You won't be naughty, will you?"

"No," Aaron said, and she smiled at him, leaned in and kissed his cheek, then his neck, only it felt like a bee sting, not a kiss, and he was so dizzy, so dizzy. 

She sat back, and her face was bumpy and her smile was strange and she wiped her mouth on her napkin. "Now, my pretty boy, one lump or two?"

 

Brighid 2006


End file.
